


Chifir

by Snow



Series: Chifir [1]
Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Gangbang, Graphic Non-Con, Injury Fetish, M/M, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow/pseuds/Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ky's always done his best to believe the best of people, but some encounters defy belief.</p>
<p>Written for kink bingo square: body alteration / injury. </p>
<p>Note: This fic contains graphic non-con and various terribleness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chifir

Ky had been limping for the last kilometer, ever since the scavenger-type Gear he'd fought had fallen on his right foot upon its death, and he'd had to pry it off. Ky hadn't stopped to look at the injury yet, not sure how seeing it would help. He'd already ripped up the cloak of his uniform to wrap the gash in his left arm, and he was sure his foot wasn't bleeding at least. (The one advantage of white, perhaps.) Ky was careful to periodically move his fingers, to make certain that they weren't going numb. 

Just a little more, he thought, then he could put himself over into the care of the medic in the town, could let himself rest. Resting here wouldn't do any good, he knew that on a conscious level, no matter how tempting it was. There were people depending on him, and if his duty demanded that he keep moving, that he stay alive, that was at least fairly reasonable of it.

He almost missed hearing the voices, lost as he was in his own world of plodding onward. He let some of his awareness of the world around him come back, let himself recognize this as a cemetery dedicated to those who had died over the hundred years of the Crusades. He'd given an inspirational speech here at one point, even if it wasn't the right environment to inspire anyone, back when he'd been the Commander of the Order, back when there had been an Order. He was still a bit of a walk from the town, but if there were people here, come to visit the graves of sisters or fathers or great-aunts, they could likely help him back.

"Excuse me," he said as he got closer, hands held carefully in front of him and feet heavy on the ground, to be certain not to startle anyone. One of the men turned, shovel -- shovel? -- in his hands with dirt at the tip. The grave he was standing beside was disturbed, a coffin half out of it. So they weren't here to pray, then. The fact made Ky's skin crawl, unease for the dead who'd entrusted their bodies to the Order, but Ky was in no state to stop them at the moment, still had to ask for their assistance. "I was hoping for help."

"Hope." One of the men, not the one holding the shovel, snorted.

"I'm injured," Ky said, insistent. "I just need to get to the outskirts of town."

The one who had snorted stepped in closer to him, studied his tattered uniform and the words on Ky's belt. Ky shifted when he saw his eyes drop, uncomfortable, but the movement put the wrong kind of pressure on his foot and made him wince. "What's in it for us?"

Ky swallowed but didn't argue, going for the pouch of money and opening it up to glance over what was inside. He wasn't so out of it that he didn't notice the man moving in to his side, but he wasn't expecting his good arm to be twisted behind his back after the money pouch was snatched out. "Aah," he said, a breathy little noise of pain, heels digging into the ground as he tried to pull forward and away.

Another of the men moved in as well, hands scrabbling at Ky's belt. He pushed at him with his injured left arm, but couldn't make him budge, and the man behind him tightened his grip at Ky's attempt. "How much do you think this'll be worth?" the man asked, as he got Ky's belt off and held it in front of himself, studying. Ky wanted to snap at him, wanted to tell him that it wasn't an object to be sold like that, but the pain across his body stopped him, the recognition that there were six of them and only one of him.

Ky twisted hard against the hold anyway, electricity crackling across his body as he drew on his last magic reserve, trying to get free enough to grab Fuuraiken, to make them all stand back from him. Instead he got fingers digging into the gash on his arm and his sword pried away before he really had a chance at it. The pain was making him lightheaded, and while he twisted and did his best to fight they still ripped the rest of his clothes from him, until he was standing naked other than the make-do bandage. One man held each of his arms and a third stood close, hovering, while Ky was made to face the other three.

He met the eyes of the one he figured had to be their leader, blue-green eyes on blue, trying for defiance but what he found there didn't help him with that, only made him feel confused and a tiny bit frightened.

"Turn him around," the man ordered, and Ky was forced to comply. He locked his eyes on one of the gravestones, and made himself keep his gaze steady as he felt someone step in towards him.

When he felt a hand caress his bare ass, though, he lifted his foot -- the injured one, because he suspected he had broken toes, and he'd rather try to kick with the heel than support his weight on it -- up and pressed it back. He managed to hit something, but he had the sinking suspicion it hurt him more than it did the man, and he found his injured foot gripped, fingers wrapped around his toes. They squeezed until Ky cried out in pain, then relaxed, but not enough to let him put his foot down.

"Let me go," Ky commanded.

The leader's other hand found Ky's ass, ran along it again, hand over one cheek and then the other. "Wouldn't you rather stay for a bit, Captain Kiske?" he asked, and Ky felt a shiver down his spine at his name, at his title, being used that way. That still didn't compare to the feeling of a thumb rubbing between his cheeks, along the crack, the way he felt suddenly unclean.

" _Don't_."

"Going to beg me?"

Ky shook his head. "You have to know this is wrong," he said.

"Shut him up," the man growled. He let go of his foot, but before Ky could react the men holding his arms forced him to his knees. One of the other men moved to be in front of him, started unbuttoning his pants. Ky looked away, tried to swallow the bile in his throat and opened his mouth to argue again when there were fingers unwrapping his bandage, a nail scraping along the line of his wound.

"That's a nice one," the leader said, as hands on Ky's chin made him turn his face back to the front, made him face a cock before he let his eyes press closed (as if that could change the fact that it was there, as if that could stop him from smelling and feeling it). "I hope I don't have to tell you that I'll make one even nicer if anyone feels teeth, is that understood?"

His hand tightened on Ky's arm until he nodded, until he said, "Yes," and promptly got fingers shoved into his mouth, holding it open for a cock that followed just a second later. Ky gagged at the sensation of it pushing into his mouth, careful even so to keep his teeth away, back in his mouth. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, not so much crying as a physical reaction to the way his mouth was stretching, and he flinched when he felt fingers brushing them away.

"I suppose it's your first time doing this," a voice cut in, mocking. Ky opened his eyes, tried to look at the speaker but could see little beyond the stomach of the man who forced his cock a little deeper into Ky's mouth. "That's alright, I suspect you'll learn quickly."

A hand fisted in Ky's hair to hold him in place as the cock moved deeper into his mouth, and then gave him some relief, moved back again, but not enough to let him breathe except through his nose. Someone grabbed one of his wrists, wrapped his fingers around what he knew without looking was another cock. Ky straightened his fingers as soon as they were let go of, tried to bring his hand back to his side, maybe to the legs of the man fucking his mouth, so he could push back, but instead he was grabbed again, had his hand patiently wrapped around the cock.

Ky moved to try to pull it back again, but those thoughts were suddenly superseded by a need not to vomit, by a need to breathe, as his head was dragged in all the way to the base of the cock in his mouth, as he could feel it forcing its way down his throat. His nose pressed against the hair of the man, and when he was released it felt like it had been much too long. Ky drew back, spittle connecting his mouth to the cock even after he had gotten air between them, even as he took a couple of gasping breaths.

He wasn't given long, and while Ky took the opportunity to press his lips together, to try to refuse the cock entrance, a hand clamped over his nose. Ky opened his mouth before he ran out of air, because he would see exactly where that was headed. No use in trying to fight that way, better to find something that will work.

"Press your tongue against it," came the command when the cock was reseated in Ky's mouth, followed shortly afterwards by another voice, "That's right, suck it, you whore." 

Ky was certain that he was trying not to gag more than anything else, but the man with his cock in his mouth seemed satisfied enough by that, by simply using Ky's mouth as a hole to fuck. At the same time, Ky tried to keep his hand from moving on someone else's dick as much as he could, still disturbed by the low sounds of grunting, as if it mattered more that Ky was there than anything he _did_.

"In his mouth or on him?" came the question, and Ky was trying to figure out who that came from and what it was supposed to mean when there was the reply, "On him," and then the cock in his mouth was pulling out. Relief only lasted a couple of seconds -- during which Ky was starting to catch on -- before he felt the first droplets of warmth. He made sure his eyes were squeezed shut as he tried to move his face away, a useless task with the hand in his hair.

A hand ran over his face, spreading the rapidly cooling stickiness over him and into his hair. Ky flinched back from the sensation, and flexed his hand, trying to free it. There was a wet cloth a moment later, and even if they wanted his eyes open for some reason, Ky opened them as soon as they were clean, blinking away some of what lingered.

"You look so used already," someone said, and hands trailed over the gash on his arm, enough to feel but not enough to hurt (for now, a part of Ky's mind insisted, and he accepted it). 

"Don't," he said, hating how the word came out raspy rather than commanding, but hating more that a finger went scraping over his cheek to gather the come and was held in front of his mouth until its owner could shove it in, making Ky taste the other man's fluids.

"Remember what I said about you talking," came the chuckle, and then Ky was being urged to his feet, hand still being forced to jerk off a cock, with liquid starting to bead at the tip, making his movements easier as it spread with his movements, but not any more pleasant. He balanced himself carefully, trying to keep most of his weight off of his right foot, even as a hand grabbed at his ass, even as his skin crawled with the need to get away from these people.

A finger pressed against his hole and Ky tried to step away, but a set of hands grabbed his hips. "You can't," he said, and the palm of a hand struck his cheek, making an impact through the drying fluid on it. Ky's eyes latched onto the man who slapped him, trying not to feel that finger still there, still threatening.

"I suppose I don't mind it when you're begging," he said, and his nails pressed into Ky's injured arm. Ky was sure his wound had started to bleed again, and he whimpered in the back of his throat at the pain. The finger behind him vanished, only to return a moment later stickier, slicker. It was forced inside this time, and Ky could feel his world shattering even as his body stretched to accommodate it.

"I'd put another cock in your mouth, but this is new enough I wouldn't want you biting down by accident," the man in front of him said, stroking through Ky's hair in some kind of hideous parody of affection. Ky tore his eyes away, stared at the ground as that finger started to move in and out of him. 

"You're so fucking tight," the man pressing into him with a finger said, and Ky grit his teeth.

"That's because my body isn't meant for this," Ky protested.

Someone chortled, and someone else -- or maybe it was the same person, it was impossible to keep track of anyone but the man in front of him -- slapped his ass. The finger in him pulled out, only for something thicker, two fingers, to press against him. "Does that mean you'll be meant for it when we're done, when you're loose and fucked out?"

Ky flinched, and the fingers in him got more uncomfortable as they spread. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd have to talk, but it felt like he should take advantage of it while he could. At the same time, nothing he was saying seemed to matter to the men doing this.

Rough hands traced over to his shoulder, gripping suddenly hard, and Ky's eyes shot to the man responsible. "Maybe I should leave you with a mark all my own," he said.

Ky shook his head, mouth open to object when the fingers in him abruptly pulled out.

"Do you think I could leave you something that would scar?" he asked, and then there was the tip of a knife resting on Ky's shoulder. Ky couldn't understand why he'd want to, but then there were hands gripping his hips and another set of hands spreading his cheeks, and there was something large and solid pressed up against him. The knife carved lines that Ky could feel but couldn't guess the significance of, if there was any, as a man's cock pressed into him. They both hurt.

The knife moved off his skin after a while, but the cock kept going. Ky grit his teeth and tried to focus on breathing, but he could still feel it when the man's rhythm went sloppy, when he came, semen in Ky's body, in places it was never meant to go.

Another cock slid in almost as soon as the first one was pulled out, and Ky could feel how the slide was easier this time, even before it was pointed out to him. 

"Now bend over," came the command, and Ky didn't, so there were hands forcing his back down, lining his mouth up with another cock while the person in his ass started to pick up his pace. "Remember what I said about biting. This can always get worse if you want it to."

Ky didn't really see how, but he wasn't eager to find out.

Ky couldn't honestly say if the man who'd cut the wound in his shoulder moved from his side to stick his own cock into Ky at any point, but he didn't think so, or maybe someone else took over running his fingertips along it and Ky just couldn't keep anyone at all separate anymore. He felt dizzy from the oxygen he wasn't being allowed to have, from the sperm he'd been forced to swallow or choke on, and from the fact that while there wasn't a cock in there at the moment there were three fingers. 

"It would be a shame to leave you empty," the man at Ky's side had explained, and then, "It's just until we recover, which shouldn't be too long."

Ky had tried to pull away at that, but his struggle was cut short by the heel of a foot slamming down on his injured toes. He cried out, and went still again.

After that there was another round of cocks, and each person lasted longer this time, spent more time pinching and bruising him, instead of focusing all their efforts on fucking, on getting themselves off. Through it all there were always those fingers on his shoulder, and once the knife again, when the wound had started to clot.

Ky could feel himself shaking slightly when someone else orgasmed in him, and when the cock pulled out of his mouth and wasn't immediately replaced by another one, Ky doubled over, not sure if he wanted to vomit or not, but either way unable to do it, and unable to stop dry-heaving. It took him a while to realize there weren't _any_ hands on him any longer, and even longer to have the courage to look up and see that they had in fact all left.

A moment later and he was able to find his clothes in a pile next to him, although it wasn't a surprise that they were pretty tattered. Every part of his body made him want to cry out in pain, but at least the blood from where he was biting his bottom lip to try to focus through that overrode the taste of come, more or less. Ky got a cloth draped over his shoulder, his arm rewrapped, and a strip of cloth tied around his ass.

It didn't make him feel any better.


End file.
